


white lie

by KeelaFairie



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Graphic Description of Corpses, High Fantasy, Slow Burn, based on a story i began writing but never finished, lots of death, several minor ocs to make the setting more realistic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-01-06 03:44:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18380282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeelaFairie/pseuds/KeelaFairie
Summary: by royal decree, every last elf in the fair kingdom of xadia shall be brought to justice for their sins. magic is hereby now and forevermore the greatest crime one may dare to commit, and all who do so shall face the appropriate consequence.





	1. may the moonlight guide you to sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Soooooo I wrote parts of a book a few years ago, and my friend decided she wanted to help write it. However, she quickly lost interest but due to her past involvement she now thinks she owns the story and if I actually write it and publish it she'll probably sue me. So instead I'm turning it into a Rayllum fanfic. Enjoy.

**The white lace corset was fastened onto a thin mannequin,** detailed designs that were sewn into the fabric with gold and silver string glistened in the moonlight peering through the cottage's open window. A girl was at work in the candle-lit room, squinting in concentration as she put the finishing touches on the piece of art. It was made with the finest silk she could find, and the girl was quite positive that it was her best masterpiece so far.

Rachel Moon had been hired to create the dress for a celebration in the capital city; her client had been coming to her for just over a year now, and was quite impressed with the sixteen-year-old's abilities, and Rachel was never one to disappoint.

She was a fair girl, both in attitude and looks; with long hair colored in a light golden, piercing eyes that resembled ice crystals, skin that could almost pass as freshly fallen snow, and ears that were slightly pointed at the tips, she could almost be mistaken as an elf. Almost.

Elves were creatures of fable, their existence having been outlawed a decade ago. They'd been blessed with beauty, seemingly endless youth, and — of course — magic.

Maybe that was what separated Rachel from everyone else, she'd gone through all the procedures taken to stay hidden in plain sight, but the very problem was that, without a doubt, she was an elf.

And her name wasn't even Rachel.

It was Rayla Moonshadow, as elven as a name could get. She was short-tempered, irrational, an angsty teenager, and she couldn't even act like it.

If she did, she'd draw attention — and she most certainly _could not_ do that.

No one knew, of course, Rayla made sure of that. The only reason it worked was because of the ignorance of those around her.

Suddenly there was a gentle creak of a bedroom door.

"Rayla?" a tired voice called out, and a man —several years older than the seamstress — came into view. Glancing at the clock, he yawned, "It's almost three in the morning, why in Xadia are you still up?"

Rayla glanced at the clock, confirming that fact, before glancing to a certain loose floor board. Realization dawned on the other's face, who then proceeded to push a lock of silver-white hair behind his ever-so-slightly pointed ear, the illusion of stormy eyes vibrant in the moonlight, "We have a client? And you failed to mention this to me?"

Rayla nodded, "A sunfire elf is coming over in a few minutes to pick up the renewal potion, it's been almost a year since they came last, they're about to run out."

"Ah," the man said, understanding perfectly well what the young girl meant.

Elves were separated into six groups, often based on their magic. Sunfire elves were born with a connection to the sun, fire, and heat. There were the other classes of elves, Moonshadow (like Rayla), Earthblood, Startouched, etc. They were all meant to be dead though, and no one dared defy the king's word.

"You should get to sleep, Runaan, I won't be long."

He nodded, glancing to the open window, "Aren't you going to close that? It's freezing in here..."

Rayla's face filled with realization, and she stood quickly, pulling closed the window's two shutters in a way that would remind you of a small child — every move she made filled with a cute innocence.

"That's going to get you caught one day, you know," Runaan claimed blankly, causing Rayla to sigh, "one day a guard is going look in through that window and see you up, making potions, practicing magic, and being an _elf_. Humans can't really see in the dark, you know."

"Here, I'll light the fire," Rayla replied, piling a few blocks of crumbling wood into the stone place, and struggling to light a match.

The older elf scoffed, gently shoving her off to the side.

"You? Light a fire? The last ten times you've tried doing it the 'Tinker way', nearly burning the house down. Have you forgotten the presence of those scorch marks by your feet?"

Runaan bent down to the fireplace, snapping two pieces of stone together and igniting the wood instantaneously.

Rayla flinched at the sudden, burning light that filled their small living/work area. It suddenly revealed the small, dirt-filled crevices in the fire's bordering brick, the rotting wood-covered floor that cut off into plain cobblestone where this "kitchen" was located. In reality it was just a single indoor pump over a hole meant to be their sink, and a stone counter where they made food. A single wooden table with three mismatched chairs stood in the corner by a closed window. There were two doors against the opposite wall, separated by the fireplace/stove — the one in which Runaan had emerged from was the master bedroom, and the other door led to hers. They both weren't much bigger than a closet, but it was enough.

Here they were safe. No one knew of the trap door hidden beneath the floorboards, no one knew of the magic brewing right below their feet.

It had to stay that way.

"Please, go to sleep as soon as they leave. Who is it this time?"

"Janai."

"She should be in a hurry. Her home is at least ten miles from here, she'll have to move quickly if she hopes to return before dawn."

"I'll be sure to let her know."

"Goodnight Rayla," Runaan spoke softly, returning to his shoe closet.

"...and may the light of the full moon guide you to sleep," Rayla finished solemnly.  
  
  


**~** **☆** **~**   
  
  


Morning came too quickly.

The harsh sun that beat down through her room's hole-ridden curtains filled her vision, bleeding a sharp red against her closed eyelids and filling her mouth with curses she didn't dare speak in fear of Runaan hearing them. The occasional sound of a bird chirping rose her from the comfort of her mattress. She spotted her small basket in the corner, overflowing with the simple white cloth of the dress she had finished last night.

Now, the last step. Delivering it to the rich girl that lived in the nearby village. According to her, a nobleman who lived in Katolis — Xadia's capital — had requested her hand in marriage, and so she ordered this dress to be made for their first meeting.

Rachel had never been to Katolis before. Rayla had.

It was a distant memory at this point. She'd been born there, with the name of Rayla Moonshadow, her surname ironically being the most common in her species of elf, and lived with her parents, whom had been two guards in charge of protecting the lair of Thunder, the most powerful magical creature in history. They were a well-off family, living quite near the palace, where King Harrow and Queen Sarai used to reside with their two children.

She remembered a boy, Callum, and how he'd constantly sneak out to play in the streets with her. They'd sneak through alleyway, and he'd show her the secret passageways in and out of the castle.

That age was long past now. The peace had been shattered at the assassination of the king and queen.

Now, all the people of Xadia knew was King Viren, whom King Harrow had entrusted the throne with in his final moments.

Rayla pushed the memories of Katolis from her mind. That's all they were, memories. Figments of her own imagination. She had no way of knowing if they were real or not. After all, her? Being friends with the step-prince?

It was all a mere childish fantasy.

The elf dragged herself out of her bed, not bothering to straighten the messy quilts that were draped over her mess of embroidered pillows.

If she edited the designs enough, she was able to pretend the simple moon runes laced throughout were simply nonsense patterns.

Rayla walked over to her small dresser, pulling out her day dress — a simple sea-foam green with a blue corset. It was the nicest thing she owned — Rayla had made sure of it. After all, she's made it using fabric from her parent's old traditional elven ware. They couldn't afford to keep those styles, and so she simply took them and altered them to fit society's standards as to what humans should wear.

She slipped it on, locking the hooks on the corset into place, bracing her lungs for another day of painful suffocation, of playing pretend. Paying another glance into her mirror, Rayla smoothed out her blonde hair and braided the bangs over her ears to hide the slightly pointed tips. Her spell was beginning to ware off, she would have to cast another one soon.

Her head seemed to swim with the dizziness that came with lack of sleep, but she simply picked up the basket that held the dress, slipped on a pair of worn-down shoes, and headed outside to face the world.

The village rested around a mile away from her home, the path to it constantly lined with fresh patches of moonberries and various ingredients used to craft potions that they could provide to any elves in the surrounding area.

But for now, like every other day of her life, she was human.

Human.

Just a simple human.

She'd repeated the same thought so many times over the years that she almost believed it.

Eventually Rayla reached the end of the forest path, the dirt trail breaking off into worn cobblestone as the shade turned to sun.

Rayla lifted her head up, gripped the basket until she felt the sharp pain of whicker biting into skin, and stepped into the light of yet another day of false existence.

 


	2. worlds apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small warning- there is a minor OC for about half of this chapter. as someone who hates OCs in fanfic more than life itself, I tried to make her as insignificant and unimportant as possible, but this scene was kinda important for a later event so I couldn’t rly leave it out.

**Talmhainn was a small village,** tucked deep in the center of a vaste forest that had once been home to a large civilization of Earthblood elves, whom provided the forest with constant life and plentiful growth. No one ever starved then — even if one had no money food was available for gathering if one simply made their way through the forest paths.

They were all overgrown with weeds now, only a few roads were maintained and clear for easy travel.

Rayla made her way past the street vendors, the several tiny shops that held basic necessities and the occasional luxury. Tucked in a corner, in a small shack by the forest and a small stream that cut through the village was the blacksmith.

"Good morning, Tinker!" Rayla greeted the man who was busy arranging the day's metals and workload on his bench as the forge heated.

"Good morning, Rachel," the man greeted, immediately dropping his hands of scrap metal and rushing out of the shack to greet the girl, pulling his hands out of the thick fireproof gloves.

Not that he needed them.

Tinker was a sunfire elf, he was immune to all heat.

Rayla missed the days when he'd teach her about sun magic, about the heat and warmth one could create by simply saying a special word or phrase.

What she missed even more was his name, but she hadn't know him that well when there was peace, and now he refused to tell her his true name for fear of what may happen.

Rayla had learnt to stop asking.

"How has work been this past week?" the younger elf asked, being sure to keep her voice in as heavy a human accent as she could manage.

"Not as well as last week, but still enough to get by. And you? How is that dress coming along?"

"I finished the final designs on the corset last night, and am heading to drop it off at Ms. Clairé's home right now."

"Then you should hurry along, Clairé has been gushing about it all week, stopping by and bugging me for details. Asking if you've stopped by almost every day."

"I'll be sure to let her know how expensive each fabric is," Rayla laughed, "I hope you have a fine day, Tinker."

"Any you too, Rachel. Be sure to tell Aaron to visit soon, I miss speaking with him."

"But of course. I'll see you tomorrow when we head to the market."

The heat of the forge soon faded from her body as she made her way down the streets. It was still quite early, with most of the residents only just awakening and starting their morning routines. A few woman were heading off to the market, the hands of young children clutched tightly in their own.

The young lady's home was at the far end of Iris Street, a long complex of ancient mansions that had been around for so long that many believed them to be haunted. They were, however, undoubtedly the nicest homes this small village had to offer, with each one having a minimum of three separate floors, multiple chimneys, running water, and walls that managed to keep out the sun on warm days and insulate the cold in the winter.

Rayla could only dream of living a life so luxurious.

The front yard was bordered by a cobblestone wall, lined with moss and a slightly dusting gate that swung open with a screech so loud that Rayla worried for a moment that it had come loose and scraped the stone pathway. The yard was filled with flowers of many kinds, and several moon moths huddled in a corner where a single moon berry bush was growing.

That was a rare sight. If anyone bothered to acknowledge the creatures they'd be dead.

Small creatures such as the moths were rarely killed, though the king had most definitely tried to exterminate them at the beginning of the magic ban. They were just too plentiful, for each one killed there was simply another ten to take its place. Now they were simply a nuisance, with people barely giving them the time of day.

Rayla pulled her attention away from the small creatures, walking down the stone pathway to the mansion's front door.

It was a maid who answered her knock, inviting her in hurriedly as she went to fetch her employer.

"Oh my goodness! Rachel!" a high-pitched voice called out from the top of the foyer's spiral staircase.

Rayla wanted a spiral staircase.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming by today?" the girl rambled, quickly making her way down the stairs, her poufy dress trailing behind her in a circle of silk and silver thread. "I could've prepared tea, do you like tea? Or perhaps coffee? Oh, May, please bring us both."

"It's quite fine, ma'am," Rayla quickly refuted, silently praying that she wouldn't have to sit through another one of the girl's one-sided conversation. One filled with fangirling and gushing over her new fiancé.

"Oh, are you positive?" she asked, with such a saddened, kicked-puppy look that Rayla found herself pitying the spoiled girl.

"I mean, I guess I could spare a minute or two, but I really must get back to work—"

"Oh don't be silly!" Clairé sprang back to her optimistic, overly happy mood seemingly instantaneously. Rayla found herself regretting life. "I'll pay you for whatever work you miss! Here, let's go to the sitting room, and you can show me the dress!"

Rayla followed the girl through the decorated halls, entering the large living room and setting the basket she held on the floor, Clairé hovering over her shoulder like a bird.

Rayla took the upper corners of the corset between her fingers, pulling the gown out from its folded position and letting the skirt gently float down.

The rich girl burst into a million nonsensical rambles, touching the stitching and running her hands across the lace that covered the upper half of the dress.

"Oh, it's wonderful! I love it!"

"I'm glad."

"Are you going to be traveling to the festival?" she asked, hurriedly rushing to what Rayla assumed to be a powder room to change into the dress.

"I haven't planned on it, it's much too far to travel."

"Oh, don't be silly!" her sharp voice cut through the closed door, "Besides, I've heard that the new head of the royal guard is only eighteen! And he hasn't married yet!" The girl burst out from the room, twirling in the gown, "Oh, this gown is lovely! Could you tighten the corset though? It's still quite loose, I couldn't get it completely closed on my own."

"Of course."

"Anyway, I'll mention you to Eric — oh, he's my fiancé, _and_ he's on the royal guard, can you believe it? I'm sure he knows someone who needs a new dress, and with your talent I'm sure you'll be able to find an endless supply of work there. I'll try to convince one of his friends to summon you! I'm sure then you could enjoy the festivities and meet someone. The celebrations here are always so lackluster, nothing fit for a young lady — _or_ the anniversary of our king ascending the throne."

"But of course."

Rayla didn't manage to leave Clairé's home for another hour.

When the girl finally stopped rambling for a long enough moment, Rayla found the calmest way to excuse herself from the girl's house.

The walk back through the village was long, filled with several senseless greetings and empty promises of what life could've once been.  
  
  


**~** **☆** **~**  
  
  


The castle corridors were dimly lit, silent hallways full of darkness and echoes of what once existed inside of its boundaries.

Festivities would commence the following week.

Callum only felt dread. A familiar discomfort filling the pit of his stomach.

It was the same every year. On the first week of June, there'd be a seven day long celebration, one to "mourn" the deaths of their long-lost king and queen, and to celebrate the sanctuary and protection the once-lord-turned-king Viren provided his adoring people.

He held few memories of his time with King Harrow, but Queen Sarai had always been there. He remembered her warm laugh, her comforting warmth, her obsession with sweets.

Then, nothing.

"Callum, are you okay?"

The elder step-prince looked down at his brother, who stared up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

"Yeah, just thinking about mom."

"It's almost when they died."

"Yeah."

The younger prince looked down to his arms, where a yellow and blue toad sat, "It's also when they banned magic."

"Ezran, I told you not to mention that. You were lucky that Viren let you keep Bait, but remember that he can just as easily send the glowtoad off to the fishing boats."

"Hush, Callum!" Ezran protested, "Viren wouldn't do that!"

"Whatever. Come on, we have to get back to our rooms before curfew."

With little room for protest, Ezran followed Callum through the quickly dimming hallways, passing a servant every now and then, whom bowed and muttered their required greeting before scurrying off to finish their nightly chores.

They passed by a window, and Callum could hear the start of the weekly execution.

It wasn't nearly as common as it had once been. Callum remembered falling to sleep to the sound of screams and the potent scent of burning flesh in the weeks following the death of his parents.

That first year was the worst. Executions and massacres were nightly, the same speech about justice and purging evil repeated and drilled into his memory as he tried to find the energy to force himself to sleep.

It was a pair of two Sunfire elves this time, skin beaten and bruised and horns having been shredded off.

There were two separate posts, and Callum realized that they were going to be burnt alive. Viren had a strange way of making the executions much more terrifying than they initially were meant to be.

Callum had seen him drown Ocean elves, crucify the rare Startouched elf, trap the souls of Moonshadow elves in coins.....

The prince forced himself to stop thinking of Viren's cruel form of entertainment.

Sunfire elves were immune to heat and normal fire, but if Viren managed to tamper with the flames, add in poison and toxic fumes, the Sunfire elves would still burn.

One of the elves was being harshly tied to a post, and the other screamed her name. Callum couldn't make out what it was.

He quickly took hold of Ezran's hand, pulling the boy past the window hurriedly while the young boy clutched his pet glowtoad protectively in his arms.

The blood-curdling of the burning Sunfire elves echoed through the halls and gouged itself permanently into Callum's memory.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I only just posted this and it already has a bunch of views and kudos. Brb while I cry.


	3. what is done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y’all’s comments are making my heart explode,, i’m not used to this attention😭

Rayla's Saturday routine consisted of rising at the break of dawn, before convincing Runaan that his clothing was so painfully obviously elven that he had to go change into something more suited for a human peasant.

 

Runaan had been an illusionist before the fall ten years ago. He'd been at such a loss for what to do after they went into hiding that he'd distracted himself by raising Rayla, using help from Tinker and hunting for food in the surrounding forest until they'd sold enough fur pelts and melted his beloved moonshadow weaponry into coins that could be mistaken for silver pieces and money.

 

Now, Rayla was the source for most of their income. Her job on Saturday was to set up a few model dresses by Tinker's armory and take any dress orders she could manage to complete in the next month.

 

The sun was especially hot this particular Saturday, and Rayla could feel bits of sweat beginning to stick her hair uncomfortably around her horns under her perfect, porcelain illusion.

 

She'd left Tinker around an hour earlier, leaving to collect the food she'd be eating for the next week. Runaan had gone to sell the pelts from his hunting trips this week to the village's fur shop, and Rayla was left to gather basic necessities.

 

The market stalls along the Main Street were mostly just the local businesses making use of Saturday's usual business and setting up a mix of their cheaper and finer products on benches and stands. It was enjoyable to look at the small trinkets as she walked past, even if she couldn't afford most things.

 

Her eye caught on a small glimmer of blue light, and she turned. As if caught in a trance, Rayla approached the jewelry stand, staring over the countless priceless gems and gold chains that glimmered sharply in the harsh sunlight. A single, silvery amulet glowed softly amongst the other wares.

 

"I see the moonstone locket has caught your eye."

 

"Moonstone?"

 

"Yes, it was scavenged from the execution last night."

 

Rayla's heart seemed to stop at the mention of death.

 

"There was one last night? It rarely happens here."

 

"Yes. A pretty little thing too. She was found stealing a loaf of bread from the bakery. When the baker caught her and her hood fell, sure enough. There was an elf. A moonshadow one at that, you'd think she'd have the mind to use her creepy moon magic to steal."

 

Rayla forced back the urge to retort the shipowner's words. This was a normal occurrence, simply the way of life.

 

"Aren't moonstones magic though, shouldn't this have been destroyed?"

 

"The Talmhainn guards have already checked and assured me that it's simply a pretty stone. Unfortunately, you're the fourth to ask about the magic part today. All I'm asking for it now is 5 gold."

 

Rayla stood there for several seconds, before reluctantly reaching into her small coin pouch and producing the amount requested.

 

It wasn't magic, he'd said, but Rayla could still feel the moon's gentle pull.

 

The shopkeeper thanked her, and Rayla simply nodded, pocketing the amulet and making her way through the rest of the market stalls. It looked like she and Runaan would be living off of bread this week.

 

When Rayla reached the center of the village, sure enough, there was the body of a moonshadow elf.

 

She was small, and Rayla suspected that the girl couldn't have been any older than twelve, her hands were covered with blood and bile, the fingernails torn and bloodied from struggling against the rope that had strangled her to death. The hanging post was the only way of execution Talmhainn had access to, and yet they'd conveniently decided against opening the floor below her and instead hoisting the rope just high enough to force the girl to struggle, to feel pain, to process the fact that she was dying just because she existed.

 

Half-eaten bits of fruit and stale bread littered the area below the post, and blood-stained rocks sat at her feet, where her bare toes barely rested on the wooden hanging post where flies swarmed. Rayla found herself unable to move, committing everything those around her would soon forget to memory. She let her eyes search through the girl's dilated violet eyes; the red, blistering rope burn that had cut so deep into her throat that the skin had torn and reveal twisted muscle underneath; the way her silver hair caught in the noose's knot; how bits of her ragged and filthy clothes were stained with bits of a scarlet red.

 

The moonshadow closed her eyes and took a deep breath, muttering a silent prayer as she turned and made her way back through the bustling marketplace.

 

 

 

 

~☆~

 

 

 

 

Runaan confirmed that the necklace she'd bought was, in fact, magic. It was made with fragments of moonstone that had captured the essence of moonlight.

 

“Was I right to take it? What if they find it and trace it back to us?”

 

“It’s much safer in our hands than in that of a younger, more inexperienced elf.”

 

Rayla nodded.

 

The two of them were seated at their kitchen table, the splintered wood rough against Rayla’s bare arms. Runaan held the amulet, turning the object over in his hands repeatedly, as if searching for something.

 

“It’s just a simple amulet. They were quite common several years ago, and Moonshadow elves would often carry them in case they needed to quickly disappear, or cause an illusion with no moonlight to help them.”

 

“If that’s so, then why didn’t the girl use it to disguise herself?”

 

“My guess is that she didn’t even know how,” he sighed. The elf let the amulet fall to the table and his head into his hands. “She was young, and my guess is that her family had already been caught and she was left trying to fend for herself.”

 

“What if she had been coming to us? What if she knew we were here and was looking for help.”

 

“It’s too late for that now. What is done cannot be undone.”

 

With that, Runaan stood, took the amulet from the table, and placed it in the hidden compartment under their floorboards.

 

His message was clear, they were to never speak of this incident again.


	4. memories of no one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Soren appreciation day!! Yes, I know it's technically voldemort's birthday, but I'd rather give Soren the love that his dad conveniently forgets to provide :)

**Rayla awoke that night from nightmares.** She could still see the child's corpse clearly in her mind, still make out the bloodied fingertips, the fearful expression her life had ended with.

Rayla pulled herself out of bed, exiting the small room and making her way into the rest of the house. The sharp glare of silver moonlight filled the area, reflecting off of the dress stands and sheets of fabric that say stacked on old bookshelves.

With no real purpose, she made her way outside, slipping on her shoes as she exited the cottage.

In the sky, the full moon glimmered silently over the forest.

Rayla closed her eyes, feeling it's light envelop her. She was suddenly wide awake, any sign of tiredness fading away just as steadily as the sunset. It was a simple, unconscious spell, one that she wasn't even aware of casting.

When she opened her eyes, everything was sharp and clear, moonlight enveloping everything to the point that it was clearer than day. Rayla came to the sudden realization that she could barely see the outline of her own body.

Reluctantly, she forced the illusion to fade, leaving her back in her normal skin. No illusions, no faking, no lies. Rayla entered the cottage before anything could go wrong. Her reflection was strange, a foreign image that she scarcely ever saw.

Rayla pulled one of the illusion potions from their secret compartment in the floor, and once again returned to the lies that came with a human appearance.

  
  
~☆~  
  


 

The start to the week was always the worst.

Callum and Ezran would be forced to attend a grand ball in the palace, socialize with people they didn't know and had no interest in knowing, and pretend to be fine. Pretend to be happy. Pretend to be content.

Sunday night was when it began, the first Sunday before June.

The suite Callum wore was blue, a dark color. Ezran wore read. Callum wasn't allowed any red clothing, Viren said it was so that people wouldn't mistake him for the heir.

Callum knew it was just because Viren didn't like him.

"Are you ready yet, Ez?" Callum asked through the doorway that connected their two rooms.

"Yeah. Are you sure we can't pretend to be sick?"

"You tried that last year, remember? Viren scolded you for eating too many jelly tarts and forced you to go anyway."

Ezran pouted, rising from his position on the bed, where Bait croaked in protest at the sight of Ezran leaving.

"I'm sorry Bait, but Viren was very clear when he said that glowtoads _aren't_ allowed in the ballroom."

"Come on, Ez, we don't want to be late."

The ballroom was extravagant, decorated in deep red curtains and draped with the banners of Xadia, two uneven towers positioned evenly by the other's side.

Countless people were already present, talking and laughing about senseless things as they gossiped and flounced around in priceless dresses.

He recalled a time when he actually looked forward to the celebrations in this room, when he was small enough to fit in his mother's arms, and would run off to play with the city children.

He remembered Rayla, a moonshadow elf.

It was a vague, distant set of memories, where he'd sneak into the city, and then drag her back to play hide and seek in the palace walls all day. She'd show him spells that her uncle — an illusionist — had taught her, and he'd draw the runes she showed him in his sketchbook, next to small doodles the two of them made.

She was dead now, though. Dead like every other elf whom had lived in Katolis ten years ago. He'd seen the ashes of her house himself, he'd seen the charred corpses underneath the rubble.

He'd cried, of course, like any other five year old would do. Everyone thought it was just for his parents, though. No one suspected that he had any room in his heart for a stupid _elf_ , for magic.

"Excuse me, your highness?"

"Hm?"

Callum was snapped out of his trance by the appearance of a girl, one wearing a ridiculously large violet gown. The step-prince nodded to the girl, who seemed to take that as permission to keep speaking.

"I am Chelsea Clay, the daughter of one of king's councilmen—"

" _Callum!_ "

The step-prince immediately turned to face his younger brother, whom had somehow snuck through the crows to be by his side.

The girl seemed to pale at the sight of his little brother, and she quickly bowed, excusing herself back into the gossiping crowds surrounding them. Callum would have to thank Ezran for appearing to save him later.

"Callum, King Viren would like to speak with you."

"Right now? Doesn't he have important diplomatic things to do? Rich people to speak to?"

"He said it's about your birthday."

Callum paled, "Right. I'm not the heir."

Ezran grabbed his brother's hand, squeezing it comfortingly as the two of them began making their way to the front of the ballroom, where a single, tall throne was set.

The area around it was clear of people, as if being in such near presence to the king was such an overwhelming feat that no one dared test the waters.

"You summoned me?" Callum asked as he approached, bowing at the foot of the most powerful man in Xadia.

"Yes, I'd like to speak with you," he said, motioning for the step-prince to stand.

Callum did so, and Viren quickly motioned for Ezran to leave the two of them. The child glanced at his brother, who managed to give him a half-hearted grin as if to say " _I'll be fine, go find the jelly tarts._ "

Viren began walking away from the throne, and Callum followed the king as he led the two of them out of the ballroom and through the halls. Callum realized that they were headed to his office.

The king's study was in reality what had once been the advisor's, but Viren never saw the need to move all of his stuff when he was perfectly comfortable in this particular room.

Callum avoided this are whenever possible. He wasn't a fan of seeing the collections of dragon horns and elven skulls lined on his shelves.

"I'd like to speak with you about this coming summer," Viren began, casually approaching his desk and sorting through the papers stacked on the wood. "You're turning sixteen, am I correct?"

"Yes, that would be right."

"I've had several diplomats questioning what will become of you, seeing as you're nearly at marrying age."

"So I've heard."

"Then I'm sure you'll understand where I'm coming from when I say this," the king continued, seeming to find whatever papers he was looking for, he held them out to Callum who took the papers hesitantly, "I'd like you to choose a potential suitor by the end of the week. There will be festivities every day, several chances to have a sudden summer romance. If you do not find a possible girl by the end of this week, I shall expect you to choose from those of whom I've provided you info on."

All Callum could bring himself to say was "Yes, your highness."  
  
  


~☆~  
  
  


Callum spent the rest of the night in a daze, not really aware of anything that was happening. He lingered around Ezran, whom had quickly forgotten of the incident where Viren spoke to him in private, and had taken to dragging his sibling around as he was determined to try every set of sweets that had been arranged on the buffet tables.

He'd been expecting this, he'd seen this coming for years now. Yet why was it only now filling his stomach with a sickening dread.

Ezran probably didn't understand quite yet. After all, he was only eleven, the most he was worrying about was how to steal the maximum amount of jelly tarts from the kitchen. He hadn't yet been brought to the realization of just how cruel their world was, and Callum could only wish that he could stay like that forever.

But his brother was slowly but surely growing up, and Callum knew he couldn't protect Ezran from the harsh world forever. He knew that the younger had been awoken from nightmares from the things the two of them constantly saw. Ezran would crawl into Callum's bed in the middle of the night, Bait grumpily following, and whisper in a hushed silence the things he'd seen, the horrors that so often disrupted his slumbers.

There were nights that Ezran was convinced the walls were bleeding from all the death that had taken place within their barriers; nights where his soul had been switched with that of an elf upon death's row; nights where it turned out he was secretly half elf and Viren ordered his lifelong imprisonment.

It was often hours before he could get his brother back to sleep.

That night, when the party had finally ended and the two princes found themselves back in their beds, Callum found that on this particular night he was the one plagued with the nightmares.

 


	5. a simple request

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ the ppl who’re commenting. thank. y’all give my life meaning.

The sun had just passed its highest point in the sky when they came. At first, nothing but pure terror filled Rayla's being as she saw the messenger approaching, fully clothed in an expensive uniform that could only be found in Katolis. When she saw that it was only a messenger, no royal guard, her tension eased slightly.

 

Only slightly.

 

He knocked on the door to the house, and Runaan looked up from where he had been at work, cleaning his arrows and mending the ones that had broken during his hunts.

 

Rayla looked at her mentor for permission, and opened the door when he nodded.

 

"Is this the residence of miss Rachel Moon?" the man asked.

 

He was short, especially for someone of his apparent age. As Rayla had seen from their window, his clothing was a royal blue, baring the kingdom's insignia — Katolis' two towers.

 

"It is."

 

"I have come with a service request," the man spoke, "a lady under the name of Clairé Hart wishes to have you modify a set of dresses for the week's celebrations. If you accept this request then we shall leave immediately. There is a carriage waiting back at the village."

 

Rayla simply stood there, the words spoken not exactly processing.

 

Oh, for the love of Xadia. That stupid rich girl really went and summoned her, meaning to drag her all the way to Katolis to be her personal seamstress—

 

She took the envelope that the messenger held out for her. Breaking the seal carefully, she pulled out the contents and froze.

 

There must've been some mistake.

 

"I'm sorry, are you sure this is the correct letter? Perhaps it was misplaced? Or meant for another Rachel?"

 

"No, ma'am. Miss Clairé was really quite clear when she sent me to fetch you," the messenger said blankly, "Rachel Moon, lives right outside of Talmhainn in a small cottage, down a thin trail. She even gave the address of the village's blacksmith in the rare case you weren't home."

 

"Oh."

 

Rayla looked into the envelope again, being sure to hold it to the light so to make sure what she was seeing wasn't a figment of her imagination. She reached into the packaging pulling out the golden pouch that sat by the contract she had yet to sign. Undoing the pouch's string, she felt her heart skip a beat.

 

There was no doubt about it. It was real. She was holding the heavy metal in the palm of her hand, it's glimmering sheen reflecting off the sunlight in patterns that resembled a simple fire.

 

One hundred gold.

 

It was only the down payment.

 

Rayla scanned over the parchment once again, carefully reading each word until the calligraphic letters were burnt into her vision. She felt Runaan's eyes scalding the back of her head, and she timidly waved him over with her free hand.

 

She could barely process how he gently took the contents from her hands, and could only wait as he read the parchment, the contract, the simple piece of paper that could very easily change their lives for better or worse.

 

"And you said she requires my presence immediately?" Rayla asked, sensing the impatience brewing in the messenger.

 

"Yes, ma'am. And it is quite a long journey to Katolis. If we'd like to arrive by sundown it's best that we leave without further delay."

 

Rayla looked up at Runaan, her eyes gleaming with a question she was too afraid to ask.

 

"Could you give us a moment?" Runaan asked the messenger, whom's lips pursed in a silent annoyance, but stepped back and left to wait at the tree line patiently.

 

Runaan then closed the door to the cottage, placing his hands on the shoulders of the younger elf.

 

"You'll never get another opportunity like this," Runaan stayed simply.

 

She nodded, lips trembling silently at the thought of what could possibly await her. In the city, the place where she grew up, her home. The most dangerous place she could possibly be.

 

"You need to go."

 

"But what about you and Tinker?"

 

"We can make it on our own. Use this as a chance to make a better life. You're young, you can create a life worth living."

 

"But what about the illusions? I know nothing about creating magic on my own—"

 

Runaan stopped her, quickly looking out the window to make sure that the messenger wasn't paying attention, before quietly removing the floorboards and stealing the amulet Rayla had obtained from the jewelry vendor.

 

He closed his eyes, mumbling a simple incantation under his breath. The moonstone glowed brightly for a split second, before dimming into a slight shimmer. Runaan carefully placed it around Rayla's neck.

 

"Never take this off, and you shall keep the illusion for as long as I live. For as long as the moon still gives us life."

 

“Of course.”

 

Runaan managed to give her a weak smile, “Now, go get your things. It’s a long journey to Katolis.”

 

 

 

 

~☆~

 

 

 

 

The carriage was beautifully decorated, scarlet red wood shining under the harsh setting sun that peered in from its window. Her luggage sat on the seat across from her, and the half-empty bag of coins rested in her trembling hands.

 

She’d given fifty gold to Tinker, asking him to give half to Runaan. He’d refused to take the money, and Rayla couldn’t leave him without at least something to make up for her absence.

 

Soon, the uneven dirt gave way to cobblestone, and Rayla realized that they were almost there.

 

She saw the first building drift into view, and was hit with a sudden wave of overwhelming familiarity.

 

There were the guard posts, the city entrance, the old buildings that lined the edge of Katolis. Rayla forced the bubbling excitement down. She had to remind herself that she was meant to have never been to this city before. What use would a peasant seamstress have in the capital city?

 

The buildings grew more and more elaborate and beautiful the further into the city they went.

 

Every now and then, there was an empty space between houses, nothing but ash in its void.

 

They turned down several side streets, passing local shops, cafés, bakeries, etc. Eventually they turned down a street of mansions, much larger and more grande than anything found back at her village.

 

The carriage pulled to a stop, and the door opened.

 

Rayla carefully gripped her small suitcase, filled with various fabrics and a few small possessions that she dared not leave behind. After all, moonberry juice wasn’t really sold in cafés anymore. It was a traditional moonshadow elf drink, and god forbid humans from liking something an elf did.

 

She stepped out of the carriage, and into the twilight air that promised the start of a new life.

 


	6. familiar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of y'all ever notice typos or a rly strange error somewhere pls tell me, I rarely proofread before posting because I usually like to get chapters out a soon as they're done, and going back to find a rly awkward mistake is the worst feeling ever

**Rayla was given a room on the second floor,** in the servants quarters of the mansion, where each dress wanted altered were set up on stands to show the elaborate designs.

They were all too big, she'd complained, and she wanted them fit to her exact measurements. She set her suitcase on the small cot that sat in the corner of her room, took her bag of money, and made her way outside to buy the needed supplies. A simple, black cloak draped across her shoulders. It smelt like Runaan, and Rayla realized she must've accidentally packed his instead of her own.

The sun had fully set at this point, with the streets illuminated with a million bright lanterns that lines the street. Despite the late hour, she found that the streets were filled with people of all ages. Everywhere she looked, people were smiling, laughing.

She made her way down the streets, finding one that was much less crowded than the main rows of shops that were holding many sales in honor of the week of celebrations.

Every step she took was filled with an overwhelming amount of familiarity. The crack in the side of that one stone, the way moss seemed to crawl up the walls on the streets away from the main walkways. The buildings here were old, mostly made of stone exteriors and wooden bases.

Several of these shops appeared to be closed, with the occupants and owners being off having fun with the festivities.

It was around here somewhere, she just needed to find the correct street.

She turned another corner, and found herself staring straight at the distant image of the castle, it's huge towers towering over the surrounding streets and casting shadows over the buildings. The moon rose over the palace at this angle, it's light constantly filling the alleyways with a soft silver light. It had been a favorite area of several moonshadow elves when she was little.

Rayla could remember watching the castle from her window each morning, excitedly awaiting the time when her friend would emerge from its walls, sneak through the underground passageways, and meet up with her around the side of her house. While her parents were at work and she was left to play with the other children in the streets, or meant to stay in Runaan and Tinker's magic weaponry shop.

She made her way down the thin street, the uneven stone cutting into the soles of her feet.  


There was a hooded figure crouched in front of an empty lot. He rose, and began walking away.

Rayla waited until the human was gone before making her way to where he had been standing.

Bits of grass and weeds had made their home in the patch of land, the occasional piece of rotting wood still stuck up in a silent skeleton of what once existed.

It was much larger than she remembered it being. Perhaps that was just the result of living in a tiny cottage for so long.

At the line of where the dirt met rock, there was a single violet flower.

It matched the color of Rayla's elven eyes.

She picked up the violet, her breath catching in her throat.

She suddenly couldn't bare to be anywhere near the empty lot. Rayla stood, dropping the flower to the ground as she turned and ran. She went past the moss-ridden walls that were so painstakingly familiar. The empty, lifeless streets were suddenly suffocating. Everywhere she looked she saw flashes, frozen moments she thought she'd forgotten. Small glimpses of what her life could've been — how it should have been.

Then, she saw fire. She saw the royal guard storming down the streets, of an elf showed their face outside for fear of what was happening, they'd be struck down without mercy.

Rayla could still remember the screams, the fire. Runaan had appeared mere moments before the guards. He'd been present at the announcement that banned all magic.

She overheard him telling her parents that archers had begun shooting into the crowds immediately after Viren spoke of the order.

They'd only managed to stuff a few articles of clothing into a single bag before they heard the shouts and screams from down the street.

Rayla had quickly been given the bag, and Runaan had cast a spell of invisibility.

She had cried as Runaan carried her away, when she saw the place she'd once known as home burst into flames. As she heard the screams of her parents being burned alive. Runaan couldn't hear her protests; his spell had mute their voices.

The rest was a blur. An empty void of nothingness.

She returned to the main street, pulling the hood of her cloak up and over her hair. The air held the slight of early summer nights. Her eyes drifted over the shops. The smell of bread from a bakery, the ashy trace of insensé in the air, bits of colorful ribbons falling from rooftops.

Her eyes stopped on a single, empty unit, on the corner of the side street that led to the ashes of her old home. A simple "for sale" sign was posted on the window, along with the price and address of the realtor that currently owned the property.

Five hundred gold pieces. With what Clairé was paying her, she could easily turn this into a shop. Those who lived here were quite rich, and raising the prices of her dresses wouldn't be that big of a problem.

With the way Clairé had greeted her, it was obvious that she was expecting Rayla to stay in the city and continue to make her clothing, and considering what she was being paid, Rayla couldn't bring herself to refuse.

She tore her eyes away from the empty and dark shop. Beginning the walk back to Clairé new mansion.

Someone appeared in the corner of her eyes, the familiar scent of lead and paint filled her senses. Time seemed to slow slightly, and her heart rate quickened.

There was no way, it couldn't be.

Her footsteps faltered as she stumbled to a stop. She quickly turned, but the figure that had passed her was already long gone. Lost in the constantly shifting crowds.  
  
  


~☆~  
  
  
  


By the time Rayla returned to Clairé's mansion, back through the servant entrance and to her small room, she felt the tears begin to fall.

A long mirror was set in the corner of her room, in the mess of gowns Clairé had set out.

Her appearance was human. So painstakingly ordinary and plain. Just another simple elf-hating human that would willingly murder any magical creature they could find.

The amulet that was hanging gently down around her neck suddenly felt suffocating.

It was right there, so close yet so far out of her reach.

And what about Callum? Did he remember her at all?

Did he ever recall their senseless adventures that were once so important to the both of them? The fleeting moments that left members of the courts and council whispering, spreading rumors of the step-prince and his elf friend.

Though Rayla remembered so little of it, she did know that tension between elves and humans existed long before the assassination of their king and queen. Elves seemed to think of humans as less, not being able to do magic like them; and humans thought of elves as barbaric, cruel people, with strict cultures and little room for actual freedom.

Apparently moonshadow elves had been one of the worst elf types, with honor and vows valued above all else.

Rayla didn't remember that though. After all, what is the use of those moonshadow customs for a six-year-old.

All she ever remembered about her parents was how determined they'd been on protecting the dragon prince, and her.

She wondered what they'd think of her life at this moment, would they rather have given up their lives like so many moonshadow elves had rather done than hide? Or would they still be here, like Runaan, hoping that one day things would change for the better, and they could live in peace once again?

It was these thoughts that plagued her mind as she changed out of her day dress, sat on the seat by her windowsill, and fell asleep under the bright moonlight that filtered in through cold night air and open glass.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a playlist for most of the songs I listen to while writing this, if anyone is interested  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL9O4ncZevU3ianAI0jNyaRLHAS5oC100o


	7. ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to update! School is,, well,, school.

The dress was a deep, royal blue. The thread a simple golden color, interwoven in a million small star shapes, surrounding the crescent moons that covered the bodice. She'd been sewing all morning, rising as soon as the first rays of sun shot through her window and working on the dresses Clairé had set out.

She was currently working on the last one, trimming the extra fabric and altering it to the girl's size.

Her legs were filled with sudden, tingling sensation of blood rushing back into her limbs as she stood, and Rayla smoothed put her simple gown. She had received 1000 gold coins upon her arrival to Katolis, simply from accepting Clairé's request.

With nothing better to do, she grabbed her cloak, the bag of coins strapped around her waist, and set out to the city.

It was much less crowded on this day, with the celebrations mainly taking place in the evening, after the normal workday. She made her way through the streets, passing the small, gossiping crowds. She checked the address again. It should be right around the corner...  
  
  


**~☆~**   
  
  


The shop was a desolate, empty place. Filled with dust and traces of what the last occupant had left in the dull place. Her hand rested on the counter, where dust collected at her fingertips.

This place was hers. Her own shop.

The thought was unreal.

She grabbed the old, cobweb covered broom that sat abandoned in a corner and started cleaning the sad and desolate place.

The realtor had warned her that a Sunfire elf had once taken residence here, and it was said that the lot was still haunted by their vengeful spirit.

She assumed that was why a unit on one of the more busy streets was selling for so cheep.

Rayla made her way behind the counter, turning to the small staircase that led up to the second floor. According to the realtor, it was where the old occupants had once lived. She took out the small key to unlock the door, and emerged to a small, quaint loft. The view she always met with was a wall of clouded windows, overlooking the street and the people that happily roamed.

A small stepladder was off to the side, leading to a trapdoor that was the entrance to what Rayla assumed to be the roof, and a door next to it was what appeared to be the one bedroom, a simple cot with a pair of sheets tucked in the corner. Next to that was a small bathroom with a pump and an old tub. The kitchen was a small line of counters, a sink, and a row of cabinets.

It was tiny, but still so much bigger than what she was used to.

It took all day for her to clear out all of the dust, to clear out the sink behind the counter of the shop, to wipe down the windows to the point that they shone with sunlight. The gas lamps still worked, and Rayla was happy to find that the chandelier still lit up the entire shop. The fireplace that rested against one wall was filled with the remains of burnt wood and ash, and the shelves were covered in various bits of scrap metal.

They must've tried selling their weaponry here.

It wasn't such a smart thing to do so close to the king.

By the time she had finally cleaned the majority of the unit, her arms aches and her legs had gone numb from spending so much time kneeling. Even when sewing, she never spent that much time on the floor.

The bright sunset peered through the clean windows, and Rayla stood to go collect her things and move into her new home.  
  
  


  
  
  
**~☆~**   
  
  
  
  
  


It took the rest of the week for Rayla to open the shop. The dresses displayed in her windows were old ones that she'd made for Clairé — ones that the spoiled girl had lost interest in over the days.

The orders had piled up by the end of the day, requests for gowns and corsets that would take days to finish. When she flipped the sign in her window to closed and locked the door, the sun had long since set and a parade was traveling through the main street.

Rayla had no real interest in watching it.

She knew what was to await the end of it.

The final booths were where they tied up the elves found on this particular week. Their execution would take place in the palace square as soon as the floats holding the poor elves arrived.

The breeze cut into her skin through her thin sleeves, spreading goosebumps along her arms and a chill down her spine.

The music was deafening, and it made her sick that she could recognize the song being sung. They were traditional ocean elf melodies, spells that could only be cast by those connected to the ocean.

Now, it was a running trend to change the lyrics and write them off as original, non-magic songs created by humans.

Confetti and blood-red flower petals rained down around the street.

Her eye caught on a figure across the street, in one of the large pauses that happened whenever a group of dancers stopped to preform.

It was as if her body acted on it own, and she shot across the street, her arm reaching out desperately to grab the shoulder of the figure.

It was him.

_It was him—_

He turned to face her, and she froze, her eyes staring into his own emerald ones. Those eyes that seemed to hold an entire evergreen forest, those eyes that were always filled with so much wonder and emotion—

They were lost as he looked into her own. Rayla realized she was still holding his shoulder.

She slowly removed her hand, quickly looking down. "Sorry," she managed to mumble out, taking several steps back and nodding her head in apology.

"I-I thought you were someone I know. Someone I used to know."

Rayla ran back across the street before he could reply. Making her way back into the shop, hastily fumbling with the keys, ignoring the sudden roar of the crowd outside as the elves set for execution came into view.

She made her way to her dusty, only closet of a bedroom, and let herself cry.

 


End file.
